MY TSUNAMI

* Repost from November 2, 2011

The conversation I had this morning with a family member turned to a topic I used to avoid at all costs. My uneasiness used to be so apparent I thought people could see right into those deep, dark scary places inside of me. I thought that the little girl who stayed cringing in the shadows could be seen, but I was wrong. I quickly became a master at covering it up. Even those people closest to me never knew the cesspool in which I lived. And when the time was right, I eagerly and willingly accepted the label of being the black sheep of the family. It so conveniently explained all my erratic behavior and kept the awful, ugly truth from being known. 

Today, I attempted to explain why it takes some people so long to admit to being molested as a child. For the victim, it seems like an eternity of internalizing the pain and the shame and often times, they are quick to accept the blame because that seems to be the only control they have in something of this magnitude. The painful tsunami waxes and wanes throughout the person's life. It's crushing waters flood and warp every aspect of a person's psyche. Some people never get to the point of letting go of their false sense of security. 

The buoy they often cling to is the pain itself and forgiving both themselves and the molester is an unbearable task. But without forgiveness the healing process never begins. Without forgiveness the molester always stays in control. What a tangled web it is and one that a child has no tools to draw upon to help in their own recovery. How awful it is for any child to stay silent because they think no one will believe them. 

How horrible it is to have some perverse sense of loyalty towards the molester. In protecting that person and ultimately the whole family, the child sacrifices themselves. Struggle as they may to build a facade of normalcy, underneath that flimsy facade is a house of cards subject to tumble at any moment. When mine tumbled, it took many, many years to rebuild and be at the place I am today.

30 TRUTHS IN 30 DAYS - DAY NINETEEN

Truth #19: Racism is wrong! It's not something that we are genetically born with. It's something we learn along the way through our life experiences. It's ugly! It's vile! It's harsh! It's painful! And it's up to each of us to look at our fellow man as human beings, as equals and not as different because they have a different color skin than we have. We need to judge each person on deed and not on skin color. Each infringement on this simple truth is a mark against humanity and nothing more. 

30 TRUTHS IN 30 DAYS - DAY SIXTEEN

Truth #16: Children are remarkably honest creatures until we teach them not to be. Yes, children are born into this world without filters especially when it comes to honesty. As they grow up they learn how to cover the truth by using tact or worse, by outright lying. Being truthful in many situations we are told hurts people's feelings and so honesty is pushed aside for something a little more humane, thus we witness the birth of lies or "white lies" we like to call them. Children learn to lie for many reasons until all those reasons blend into one. As we become adults, some of us forget how or when to tell the truth because using "tact" is easier. But for a child the truth is always right there in the forefront waiting to be verbalized without hesitation or malice. For them, it's simple and straightforward. The truth is the truth!

THE WORLD AT 55

At 55, we are branded "mature" (at least most of us are). At 55, the world no longer is viewed in terms of black and white. Shades of gray drown out the black and white as we find very few absolutes in life. At this crucial point in our lives, many of us decide to rediscover or reinvent ourselves. For many, this is the first major decision as we travel into the autumn of our years. Why can't this segment of our lives be as colorful as the trees in New England as the become ablaze of colors decorating the landscape? Why can't these years be filled with less regret and more urgency to do all the things we wanted, but never did because life kept getting in the way? Why isn't the light at the end of the tunnel a stronger, brighter beacon guiding us along the way? 

At 55, we are no longer invincible and immortal. Many of us are drowning in all the mundane things in which life is filled. We rarely take time to have fun, be happy or treat ourselves to an occasional goodie. At 55, our nest is filled with items of comfort that keep us from venturing outside to explore. Yes, we know we should treat ourselves better, but most of us have spent a lifetime of putting others before our own needs so we are clueless when it comes time to think about ourselves. I often wonder what would happen if I suddenly let that wild hair that was so much a part of my make up in my younger years loose again. Instead of cave-dwelling, what would happen if I squander my time and money and aimlessly wander? 

Isn't going out in a blaze of glory better than slowly fizzling out? Would living on the edge and flying by the seat of my pants feel any different now than it used to feel? As I watch those around me grow old and die, these at the things I wonder at 55. 

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for each age I've been for with each age comes new realizations and truths.

* Reposted from October 13, 2010 

THE TRUTH IS A VIRUS

[Originally written April 9, 2009, taken from an excerpt on my blog, Abnormally Normal People, edited and reposted]

Truth? As far out on the edge as I've teetered, something has always kept me from stepping into the abyss. Truth? My pain and I have a very intimate relationship. It’s very complicated and the only lasting relationship I’ve ever had. It’s definitely a love-hate relationship full of angst and exploration leading me into places where I’m able to forget my pain temporarily. During those times, life has been wonderful and filled with adventures, but nonetheless those times were temporary.

Is there anyone out there who has ever gotten to the point of saying "I'm done"? Well, what do you do when you're done? What do you do when you look back at the life you've lived and see that it's taken you to a place of true complacency and indifference? Wow! That's a place I never thought I'd be! Anger maybe. Rage was always a possibility. Bitterness was always aching to be number one on the hit parade, but what did I get? Complacency and indifference salted with a dash of disillusionment.

Without all the gory details, I recently made a decision that possibly could be the queen of all my self-destructive acts. I know some might think anyone making the decision to stop an addiction... any addiction is a wise decision. Perhaps it is! What would one say to someone who is addicted to prescribed narcotics and muscle relaxers and who has decided to stop taking those drugs against medical advice? Hmmmmmmm! Go for it? Good luck? You’re a damn fool? There’s no escaping the truth. When you’re done, you’re done.

Truth? Drugs have veiled many of my written words over the past several years. Okay, for some that may come as no big surprise, but for me it does. What surprises me is that after living through the horrors of drug abuse at a younger age, I allowed myself to take the easy way out as an adult and become something I hated. I would like nothing more than to be able to blame the doctors who prescribed the drugs to me, but I can't do that. I won’t do that! They had a job to do and did it. What transpired was a perfectly legal act, although some might question the ethics or morals involved.

Was I some drug-seeking individual that goes from doctor to doctor hoping to score some decent drugs? Truth? No! My medical problems set me on the path of having the best drugs health insurance could legally buy. Unfortunately, the nature of the beast includes developing a tolerance to prescribed narcotics. What may work initially only becomes a way to take the edge off and feel somewhat normal…. whatever normal is I’ve forgotten.

After careful consideration, I decided to go cold turkey. Is that the politically correct term these days or is it only showing my age? I decided to do this withdrawal in stages thinking that it would be easier on me due to other health issues. Instead of weaning myself off my meds, I abruptly stopped taking my Oxycontin first and now, I’m in the throes of a nasty divorce from Percocet 10’s. The muscle relaxers were flushed sometime in the midst of all this madness. Has my last month been fun? Hell no, but what I do know is that withdrawal can be accomplished. All it takes is determination and insanity will take you the rest of the way.

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for having another blog I can steal stuff from when I don't feel like journaling.

MY QUEST FOR GOD - PART II (REPOST)

The summer of bible camp was "The Summer of Love."  How ironic I thought, while others everywhere were tuning in, turning on and dropping out, I was trying to understand basic human nature and to find out if God really does exist. From a child's perspective, I grew up thinking if the people who claim they love me and want to protect me will hurt me, then what will the rest of the world do to me? That isn't actually the right stuff to guide a person into adulthood, but nonetheless it guided me into being clueless where romantic relationships are concerned. The "funny" thing about it is that I've gone through life waiting and wanting someone to prove me wrong, but to date no one has. My logic says since people are human and humans are flawed, anyone is bound to hurt/disappoint someone else, but on a deeper level...one still filled with idealism and good things that can't be destroyed by this cesspool called life, I choose to hold onto the belief that love is a good thing and in many situations is the only thing that keeps us afloat. So until love comes my way, I'll just stay in my canoe and hope I don't lose my paddles. 

After that summer when I fell short of receiving God's grace, I turned to trying to understand evil instead. When Anton LaVey's Satanic Bible was hot off the presses, I purchased one and read it from cover to cover hoping for a lightbulb moment. Needless to say, it was just another book filled with words written by man and it didn't explain the great mysteries of life any more than the Christian Bible had. My spiritual journey I suppose some would say was corrupted by my inability to believe what I couldn't see. Instead of blindly believing, I questioned EVERYTHING instead. If God loved us so much then why do bad things happen to good people? Where are the miracles? Why are there wars, famine and disease? No one seemed to be able to adequately answer these things through the Biblical verses they would throw my way. I needed more than meaningless words on a page to help me swallow anything I was told about God. I needed more than just empty written words to make God a reality.

Eventually my salvation was found in my experimentation with drugs. As that experimentation deepened, I found certain drugs had a numbing effect. That feeling was one my whole body craved.... especially my emotions. Nothing bothered me as long as I stayed high, so by the tender age of 14, I stayed high ALL the time. I could easily sit back and blame my choices on my genetic background. I'm sure the long line of alcoholism that runs on both sides of my family would be enough of reason to say I didn't stand a chance not to be a substance abuser. Yes, the odds were against me, yet somehow I know that's not why I changed the path I had walked as a small child. I didn't begin life as an addict. You see, I actively sought out finding something that would make me numb. It took me many years to realize that without drugs I would have been a much uglier statistic. I choose drugs to stay alive if that makes any sense. They didn't choose me. 

Looking back on it, I call the next 16 years of my life "my leap of faith". They say God looks out for fools and drunks, but I think He/She has a special fondness for all addicts. Addictions, whatever they may be, cause an emotional bankruptcy in the person. No love is greater than that of a person and their drug of choice. When I say "drug," I include food, sex, gambling, shopping, work or whatever it is a person uses to escape. All other things in life come second regardless of what we try to tell ourselves and everyone else who is in earshot. That moment, at the climax when nothing else matters, I found freedom from pain and a facade that made me think nothing could ever hurt me again. Many years later, when the truth stared me in the face daring me to look elsewhere, I realized the truth and only the truth would set me free.